I went to see the Hunger Games last night and was delighted to find some of my favorite places on earth displayed in full color on the big screen. (Warning: minimal spoiler alert)

The entirety of the Hunger Games was shot in North Carolina. In the book, District 12 is located in the beautiful, but socially-grim, coal-rich Appalachia of the future. Luckily for Katniss, the “arena” within which the tributes fight was created to be very similar to these woods. Most of the filming took place in and around Asheville and, as the tourist office would like for you to know, all of the film’s stars stayed and “played” in town also. (woop) Many of the Arena woodland scenes were shot up in Barnardsville, close to location of my campout a few weeks ago. (Check out my post to see what the area looks like before it’s all leafed out)

oh hey, tulip poplar in the righthand corner

In between the blooming anxiety over Katniss’s survival and near two hours of heart palpitations (all this from someone who actually read the books!) I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the forest was! When I should have been concentrating on which tribute was creeping up to kill our trusty heroine, I was examining a patch of chickweed directly behind Katniss or the budding rhododendron that she briskly runs past. When Katniss woke up from her tracker jacker-induced slumber with a compress of leaves on both arms, my friend, and fellow plant dork, actually leaned over to me and whispered, “aren’t those bloodroot leaves?” Looks like it to me! (which actually isn’t all that cool, because bloodroot is endangered! Hopefully they didn’t disturb the root)

The Real Deal: Bloodroot leaves

I’m well aware that a botanical fascination was not “the point” of The Hunger Games movie, but it’s definitely one of my more lasting impressions. Sitting in that theater and drinking in the panorama of those breathtaking forests, I felt this incredible heartwelling urge to run, right then and there, to the woods and see what new green had come up since I’d last visited. All at once, I remembered summer and the incredible procession of unfurling– blooms, leaves, flowers and canopies– that is still to come, and I was exhilarated!

Sometimes, you really need to be reminded of just how lucky you are, and of the incredible abundance of the life (and learning) awaiting you. This time, there just so happened to be a multi-million dollar movie poised and ready-to-release at the head of spring to help me remember.

Happy First day of Spring everyone! Today I am throwing open every window in my house. I am going to roll up the thick rugs on my bedroom floor, shake out every pillow, and walk in thoughtful circles around the garden. It’s spring! The birds have built nests in the elbows of the trees, the bees are busy encircling my house like a crown, and there are flowers flowers flowers everywhere! Let’s all agree– to drink in this day until we can drink no more. Cheers!

Such Singing in the Wild Branches (2003)

It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves—
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness—
and that’s when it happened,

when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree—
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing—
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky— all, all of them

were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn’t last

for more than a few moments.
It’s one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you’ve been there,
you’re there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then— open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.

At the beginning of the week I loaded Mr. Forester (my Subaru who also goes by the name “silver fox”) with sleeping bags and long johns and friends and headed to the woods.

The drive itself was beautiful. We passed through Appalachian farmland, admiring the weathered barns sliding drunk from the hillsides and the empty pastures with their solitary tree swings and watchful grazers. This is the time of the year for which the Blue Ridge Mountains are named. With the trees still bare, the gently rounded peaks of these ancient mountains remain cloaked in a dusky blue twilight. We drove straight into their folds.

By the time we hiked up into the woods, it was already mid-afternoon. Unlike time’s normal routine of skittering past your grasp and forever down its rabbit hole, this bright day just seemed to get bigger and bigger. Sometimes, when you really lose yourself in nature, time stretches so thin it almost ceases to exist. We spent long, sun-dappled moments swimming in the cold mountain river, leaping from one boulder of moss to another and exploring the awakening forest.

I got lost for hours laying in a bed of partridge berry. This lovely, creeping evergreen dripped from rock faces, tree roots, and rhododendron shade everywhere. It was profuse. An incredible native medicinal, I leisurely collected handful upon handful as the day drew on. (If you want to know more about this humble and powerful plant, check out Juliet Blankespoor’s awesome post on her blog Castanea).

Partridge Berry- Mitchella repens

black walnut extravaganza

We snacked on black walnuts (gathered this past fall by many friends with black hands!) and ate dried wild apples.

That night we cooked local deer and wild rice (harvested, danced upon, and carried back to Appalachia all the way from Minnesota) over an open fire. We rolled our sleeping bags out on the ground, spent one last moment looking up at the black silhouettes of the trees, and then fell asleep under the stars.

In moments like these, I can’t help but be left in wonder. How charmed life can be.

Tis the season of flower essences. In honor of all the new blooms I’m reposting an article I wrote about the most well known of all flower essences, Bach Flower Remedies…

The first time I ever read about Bach Flower essences I actually cried. Not out of any particular wound or hurt, but because something about this medicine struck such a deep and familiar chord of truth. Flower essences heal on many levels, helping the emotional and spiritual, as well as physical, body. As it turns out, I am not the only one to have experienced such a powerful introduction to the world of Bach flower essences. If you ever take time to sift though the many testimonials of both patients and practitioners, you will find that miracles simply abound.

Blooming flowers, like the lotus, have long been a symbol for enlightenment. For centuries Tibetan Masters have preached that there is a direct link between our higher selves and the plant world. In the 1930s Dr. Edward Bach became the first modern physician to undertake a full-length study of our unique energetic connection with flowers. Bach, a sensitive, intuitive, and compassionate man who offered free treatment to the poor and devoted his life to the improvement of mankind, is the father of the 38 different flower essences now available worldwide.

Spring Nymphs by Emily Balivet

Physically speaking, flower essences are the energetic imprint of flowers captured in pure spring water at the height of their bloom. Once collected from the wilds, the flowers are either infused, by floating them in water underneath the sun’s rays, or lightly boiled. In this way, the water becomes the carrier of that particular flower’s energy. The infusion is then preserved with grape brandy and diluted into stock bottles to be taken as drops in a glass of water or directly onto the skin.

Bach flower remedies are predicated on the belief that we, as individuals, exist on many levels. We have spiritual selves, as well as physical identities, and communication between all our layers of being is vital to maintaining a happy, healthy, and above all, fulfilled life. Native American Shamans were experts at traveling between these different levels, communicating and healing illness at the source. According to Bach practitioners, our own intuition or sparks of desire are actually bits of guidance from our higher selves. These out-of-nowhere motivations are meant to direct us further along our life path or destiny. If you have ever had a crucial hunch that proved inexplicably correct, you will know the precious importance of trusting your inner knowledge. For one reason or another, however, we often block our own intuition. By ignoring what we might consider the dictates of our own souls, we create unhappiness, discordance, and imbalance within ourselves. Flower essences help to transform the negative thought patterns that hinder communication with our higher selves. By transforming these mental and emotional ruts, flower essences help to cleanse the “psycho-toxins” of negativity out of our spiritual metabolism, reestablishing our resonance with our inner voice.

Illness or disease is the cumulative result of ignoring these kinds of energetic andemotional imbalances. This idea is nothing new; science has known for decades that negative feelings and stress can weaken our body’s systems. According to Bach, however, illness is our body and soul’s way of telling us that we are in a state of disharmony, out of alignment with our life purpose or greater truth. In this way, illness can actually be seen as a gift, a condition to be worked with and learned from in order to prevent even further error or harm.

Bach Flower essences are incredibly individual and their effects will be different for each person. Each flower essence is indicated for a specific personality type and their corresponding negative patterns. For example, those who find they cannot turn off their thoughts and experience a kind of “mental merry-go-round” will be helped to achieve mental quiet and a return to their natural state of incredible concentration and inner organization by taking White Chestnut essence.

Flower essences work in a very subtle manner, so their effects might take some time— although those who are very sensitive can sometimes feel a more immediate shift. In my experience, using this medicine is a very lovely, comforting, and incredibly gentle experience. Over time, taking the right combination of essences, you will undoubtedly notice a marked difference in your mood, energy, and overall health. Much like experiencing a beautiful sunset, flower essences harmonize our spirits on a deep and often imperceptible level. For this reason a “feeling sense” is important to finding the right essence. If one essence in particular seems really appealing to you, then you probably should be taking it. Lastly, one of the most important concepts behind Bach Flower essences is the old adage “Heal thyself.” Everything you need to be healthy and whole already exists within and is available to you at any time. So whether you decide to self-treat or see a licensed Bach Flower practitioner, remember to open up to your own light and listen to the best healer you could ever ask for— yourself.

This time last year I arrived in Asheville with just my pluck, my dreams, and every possession I could fit packed inside my car. Everything I needed to start a new life was crammed inside that vehicle. Needless to say, I had to be quite selective. I left whole wardrobes behind, not to mention all the various and beautiful pieces of furniture I’ve collected over the years. I bid adieu to many beloved possessions but, god help me, I would not leave a single house plant. I was literally a driving greenhouse caravan.

By the time I left Brooklyn, my apartment had become a makeshift plant orphanage. I was working as a plant technician in Manhattan (taking care of people’s office plants and running my tail all over the city). Every time someone had a flailing plant on their hands they seemed to magically gravitate towards me, holding the sad thing out in two hands like a child that had broken a toy and didn’t really want to see it anymore. I took each one home. Plants that had gnats, aphids, mealy bug. Plants that had been underwatered, overwatered, ignored in an empty office for months. I smuggled home cuttings and offshoots and rooted them in soil. By mid summer, our apartment looked like this:

These plants were my friends. I watched them recover, grow, and flourish. I talked to them. They filled our small kitchen with green light, reviving us every time the city’s pavement buried us alive once again. When I left Brooklyn, instead of divvying up furniture or kitchen appliances, my roommate and I divided plants. I bid a tearful goodbye to those that were staying under my roommate’s sweet care and bravely moved on.

The hostel..and my songbird roommate!

When I arrived in Asheville last March I was homeless and carting and a dozen plants in the back of my car. I booked a room at a hostel and brought them in with me so they wouldn’t get cold at night. Then, I started scheming to find them a home.

It’s been a year now since I settled into the tiny, blue-chipped cottage on a winding road north of the city. It’s a quirky place. Built in the early 1920s, the walkways from room to room slant downward from so many years of foot traffic and we are outnumbered by the bees living in our roof by a factor of 500:1. But the kitchen is sunny and up until very recently, all the plants have been very happy.

Lately, however, something strange has begun to happen. Some plants, which have remained more of less dormant since the move, have begun to sprout new life! They are growing, unfurling getting bigger and grander every day! This ZZ plant is sending up a new shoot for the first time since it lived on a high shelf in my dusty Brooklyn kitchen! I cannot tell you the joy of watching this beautiful, ridiculously phallic-like, entity grow taller every day! I can’t wait until it unfurls!

Just peeking out...and now quite erect!

Other plants, however, have inextricably begun to fade. I can find no reason for the decline. They don’t have bugs, they aren’t being ignored, malnourished or mistreated. They are just….dying.

Fittonia in a sorry state

In his former incarnation this little guy was palm-sized and floating in a small tea light holder. Now look at em! The original baby was recused from a PR agency overlooking Central Park east.

It’s got me thinking. The deeper undercurrents of our life surface in so many ways. Our emotional and spiritual wellbeing is often reflected in the physical world. Anyone who has ever experienced depression or loss can attest that your mood affects more than just your mindsets. New research has even proved that a “broken heart” can actually cause cardio-distress similar to a heart attack. So, is it that far off to think that our physical surroundings, which we interact with all the time, could also reflect a change in our inward beings?

The infamous book The Secret Life of Plants marked the first time that anyone explored the idea that plants could be connected to us on an emotional level, responding to deep undercurrents of feeling. The research in this book suggested, not only that we communicate on an energetic level with plants, but that our connection with those plants that surround us is so profound that our own states of wellbeing affect the plants themselves.

Could my plants be telling me something about my own growth or small deaths? I think there is an unlimited amount of wisdom surrounding us at all times. There is so much to be learned from plants, animals, and the earth… as well as the environments that we have built up around ourselves. When something strikes you or seems to be changing in a way that demands your attention, you better stop and take a long hard look. Otherwise, you might miss a very important and well-crafted message.

Is it just a coincidence that, a year into the establishment of a whole new life– a massive uprooting that meant a complete change of location, occupation, friendships, and partnerships– that some of the living pieces of my past might thrive, while others begin to wane? I don’t think so. I am at a point right now when I am taking serious stock of all that I have built and all that I have carried with me from the past. In this new spring I’ve been stepping back to really recognize what is fulfilling for me, to let go of all the old patterns, people, and positions that might have blossomed for me in the past, but are now just draining my energy, resources and reserves. Some parts of your life will bloom and grow forever, and others are only supposed to stick around for a little while. That’s just the way it goes.

Why is the spider plant thriving, but not the marginata? Why is the ZZ suddenly sprouting anew while the fittonia slowly loses all its leaves? That, I don’t know. What I do know is that things are changing, I can see it.